“Everyone knew that Matt was the odd one out. Everyone except the group itself. They didn’t treat him any different from any other member. In fact, sometimes I think Edmund liked Matt most of all. But Matt was different to the others. It’s going to sound terrible, but he was simpler, had a less complex view of the world. He didn’t have such lofty ambitions—didn’t seem to have any interest in going to university, or broadening his horizons—he just wanted to stay in Marsden and become a tour guide for that damn tunnel. So he did. And none of the group thought any less of him for it. They all loved each other—sometimes in weird ways. It wasn’t like they loved each other as friends, but it wasn’t like lovers either. It was like they were all tied together by something deeper—true love.

“That’s why there’s no way McConnell did it. No way in hell.”

“You truly believe that?” Robin said, already knowing the answer.

“Yes, sir,” James said. “And what’s more, it’s blatantly obvious to me, and it should be to everyone. Matthew McConnell is not a killer. And I don’t like Roger Claypath going around convincing everyone he is.”

James Sunderland, a father just like Claypath—but he wasn’t letting his emotions get the best of him. Claypath and Ethan Pack were taking the easiest path by blaming Matthew, and now Robin almost understood it. James was feeling more pain than those two could ever take on, all because he believed in Matthew. He had lost everything for that.

Robin braced himself for the next question. He thought he was going to get one hell of an answer. “What do you think happened to them? Your son and the rest of the Standedge Five?”

“I can’t say for sure,” James said, as if stating fact. “It’s hard to believe I’ll ever meet anyone who could. But I know one thing. It has to do with the hole.”

Robin thought he’d misheard for a second. “The hole? What is ‘the hole’?”

The door opened behind him and he didn’t have to look around to know that Sally had returned. He heard her opening a plastic bottle with the familiar fizz of a carbonated drink. “We all caught up? I hope so because I’m all boned up over here waiting.”

“James,” Robin said, trying to get him back on track. “What are you talking about?”

Sally sat down next to Robin with a clatter, the chair scraping backward slightly. “Ditto.”